Sun and Shadow
by Rosethorn
Summary: EowynFaramir. Summary in fic. Briefly, Sauron's dead three years and they still aren't together. EXTREME AU! PG for some sexuality and swearing. DONE! DONEDONEDONE! YEEHAW! Review!
1. The White Lady

A/N: Eofara fanfic. Three years after Sauron's defeat Eowyn and Faramir are both being dense so neither one realises that the other is in love with them, even though the entire cities of Minas Tirith and Edoras from Aragorn and Éomer on down are eagerly awaiting developments in the romance. Meanwhile, Wormtongue has escaped from Saruman…eeheehee. 

I leaned against the frame of the window of my bower as I brushed my hair, staring out across the rolling, snow-covered plains of Rohan. Horses dotted the view, some with riders, some unburdened. Morning in Edoras is always noisy, even in winter, and the chatter of the women in the market drifted up to me on a faint, cold breeze that also carried the scent of roasting meat. I sniffed, trying to identify it, and finally decided on beef. 

Better beef then the scent of bodies being burned. I shuddered. Even three years after Sauron's defeat, we still battled Orcs almost daily. Fortunately the Uruk-Hai who had not been defeated at Helm's Deep had been killed in the flooding of Isengarde and the subsequent battle with the Ents. 

Yet my people and those of Gondor still died, almost daily, and all for the sake of a power-mad thing.

I sighed, and put my brush down on the sill. With my long hair untangled, I was ready to face the day, and the loneliness it would throw at me. I went to the door and started to push it open. 

Then I remembered, with a gasp, that I had forgotten my hair-clasp. How could I? I ran to my dressing table and took the clasp from atop my mirror. The design was one of running horses, with blue sapphire eyes shining against silver and gold. A gift from Faramir, the Lord Steward of Gondor, upon my leaving Minas Tirith. It was he who I missed so much, he who occupied many of my thoughts through these dreary days. I fastened the clasp in my hair, hands shaking. So long as I wore, I could pretend that he was still near me. 

"Éowyn! Éowyn!"

I turned, my hand still lingering on the clip. "Éomer? What is it? Come in, I'm dressed."

My brother burst into the room, panting as he leaned on his knees. I hid a smile. He had let himself get out of shape.

"Éowyn," he managed at last, "we have been honored! My lord Aragorn, the High King of Gondor, is coming to visit us."

My mouth dropped open, but not for the reason you think. Once that name would have struck pangs in my heart, but not now. Thoughts of Faramir had overwhelmed thoughts of Aragorn. I cared for him now only as a dear brother. A good thing, too, as he was now wedded to Arwen Evenstar, an elven lady of great beauty and quiet strength. She and I had become friends in our visit, and wrote each other occasionally. I could not think how she had failed to mention this. "When?"

"Even now they are riding up the hill," Éomer said, straightening up. "You must come, sister. The Golden Hall will not give a hospitable welcome without you."

I smiled. "Dear brother, you must make yourself ready. The Golden Hall's welcome will most certainly be incomplete without you."

He laughed. "Well, since you have been warned, I will go get ready myself. Pick something nice, Éowyn. My lord brings his lady and the Lord Faramir with him." Éomer kissed my forehead and left, missing my look of stunned surprise. Faramir was coming?

I turned to my warderobe and searched frantically for my white gown. I was the White Lady of Rohan...well, let me be seen as such. It was no accident that my white gown was also the most flattering. I wished to look my best for Faramir. 


	2. The Steward of Gondor

A/N: Eep…have a) forgotten disclaimer and b) forgot to mention that this is an AU. _Please_ tell me if the plotline goes wacko, because with the one I have in mind there are soooooo many places it could get really weird. 

Disclaimer: Own none. _Really_ wish I did, especially Faramir (yummy!) but own none.

Chapter Two: Steward of Gondor

I waited in the Golden Hall, nervous and a bit frightened. What would she think of me? We hadn't seen each other in nearly two years. Would she think I looked nice, or bad? Had she thought about me? Did she care about me? Did she miss me?

I had missed her, far more then I cared to admit. I'd dreamed about her, more then once, seeing her standing on the walls of Minas Tirith, her hair blowing behind her: had dreamed of her facing the Nazgul. Those dreams left me shaking, terrified at how close I had come to losing her. 

Don't be silly, I scolded myself. She's not yours, she was never yours. 

Of course, this changed nothing. 

A whisper of air behind me announced her entrance. I swallowed hard and turned...and nearly dropped my gloves. She was beautiful, even more beautiful then I remembered her. Her pale gold hair rippled down her back, held away from her face by the clasp I'd given her, and my heart leapt to see it. A simple golden collar circled her white throat, a horse carved into the front. The dress she wore cascaded over her body in a swirl of white silk and golden embroidery, clinging lovingly to her breasts and hips and swirling down over her...

I squelched those thoughts. Fast.

"My lords, my lady, may I present my sister, Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan?"

Certainly you may present her, Éomer. It gives me a chance to kiss her hand. It gives me a chance to touch her at all, and see if her skin is still as soft as I remember.

"My lord." Éowyn stood before me, dipping into a curtsey. I managed to get enough control over myself to bow as well, wondering how I had missed her speaking to Aragorn. In Minas Tirith, I had watched every second she spent with another man, afire with jealousy. Now...

"My lady." I kissed her hand...it was as soft as I remembered it, but with the same calluses under the pale skin, calluses from riding. Quite a difference from the useless ladies of Gonder who were currently casting their nets for me. Boromir would have tumbled them cheerfully, but I...

"It is too long since you were last at Edoras, my lord," she said, in that soft, husky voice of hers that made me want to catch her in my arms and kiss her breathless.

"I must agree, but unfortunately my people seem to think that they need to come running to me with every little problem that comes up." I saw the flash of mirth in her eyes and felt an answering smile rise on my lips. "I send them to my king. He needs to do more then sit around making calf's-eyes at his queen."

I cursed myself almost as I said those words, knowing how she had loved my king...but instead of the pain I had feared to see in her eyes, the mirth exploded into laughter. "You would not say that if he were near!"

"Oh, believe me, my lady, he would. He has. Frequently." 

I spun. "My king! Forgive me..." I was blushing, and so was she, a delicate pink that stained her cheeks and made her look more beautiful then she already was.

Aragorn laughed. "There is no need, Faramir, I've heard worse. Mostly from the hobbits."

"Ah yes, the hobbits. How are they doing?" The pink was fading from Éowyn's cheeks. I forced myself to breathe again.

A flash of sadness crossed my king's face. "Frodo has gone to the Grey Havens. But Sam is still raising little ones, and Merry and Pippen are being...well, Merry and Pippen."

She laughed again, and I felt a sudden stab of jealousy. I should have been the one to make her laugh...

"Éowyn!"

"I come, I come." She curtsied to both of us and went to join her brother. My chest tightened as I watched her go...I called her, every second I spent with her, I called her to me.

Would she ever come?


	3. Loneliness

A/N: Mmf. Short, I know, but it's really an excuse for some Eowyn/Faramir fluffiness before we get to the real plot. Eep…have just realized that I used the name of Éowyn and Éomer's mother for Éomer's bride-to-be…oh well, perhaps it's a common name. Reviewsies!

Chapter Three: Loneliness

I couldn't sleep that night. 

I knew it would have happened eventually, and it might even grant me some measure of freedom that I did not have now. But I still could not sleep. Éomer was to wed, and I was alone again.

I tried to drive back the loneliness, but it filled my throat, threatening to smother me. I pulled a dress on over my shift and reached for the hair-clasp almost without thinking. Out to the walls I went, to walk and think, and perhaps convince myself that loneliness was better then a cage imposed by a husband. 

Except Faramir. I did not think he would cage me… I pushed the unbidden thought away. Why would he want _me,_ a wild shieldmaiden? My cause was hopeless, and I would do well to put him out of my mind. Yet I could not quite convince myself…

"My lady?"

I jumped, and spun, memories of Wormtongue surging to the front of my mind…but it was not him, it was Faramir, concern in his gentle gray eyes. I put a hand to my heart. "My lord. You startled me."

"Forgive me. I meant no harm." He bowed, and I resisted the urge to touch his tousled hair. "Why are you still awake?"

"I could not sleep," I said, inanely stating the obvious. Mentally cursing myself, I continued, "I…I am lonely, that's all, and loneliness often keeps one up at night."

"I know," he said, softly, his eyes darkening with an old sorrow. "But you have your brother, my lady…why are you lonely?"

I swallowed back tears. "Éomer is to wed. Your cousin, I think…Lothiriel. She is sweet and lovely, and everything I could wish for in a bride for him, but…" my voice sank to a whisper, "but I am afraid that once he weds her, he will have no more time for me." I felt a single tear escape my eye and slide down my cheek. What he must think of me, putting my happiness before my brother's! I bent my head in shame.

Faramir made an abortive movement, then reached forward and took my hand. "Believe me, Éowyn," he said, his voice low and intense, "when I say that _I_ will always have time for you. If you call, I will come."

I looked at our joined hands, drowning in the feeling of his warm, gentle hand on mine, and could not speak.

Abruptly, he dropped my hand, and shook his head. "I am sorry, my lady," he said, "but I fear the ride took more out of me than I knew. I must return to my bed."

"And I," I managed, still amazed. "Good night, my lord."

"Good night, my lady." He left, pausing once at the top of the stairs to look at me, an unreadable expression on his face.

I remained on the wall, unable to move, amazed and jubilant, for not only had he touched me, he had spoken my name, in the quiet, reverent tone he had before reserved for his king.

He had spoken my name. 


	4. Fear

A/N: Tsk tsk, Faramir's getting really bloody-minded in this chapter. …::shakes head:: I do not own Faramir (oh, how I wish I did!) or Éowyn or Éomer or the Golden Hall or the Valar or Rohan or Helm's Deep or anything you recognize. I do own the hysterical maidservant, Eldred and Éowyn's horse. Profanity warning. 

Chapter Four: Fear

Dear Valar, I could not _believe_ I had said that. 

She hadn't even looked me in the eye. I must have frightened her. Stupid, stupid, what had _possessed_ me?

I pushed open the door of my room and sat on the bed, staring into nothing. I could still feel her hand in mine, and it had a devastating effect on me. For one moment back there, I had been unable even to breathe. What was happening to me? I knew I loved her, and had since I saw her for the first time, so beautiful and so sad, and yet strong, always strong. But this...

Nothing I had ever known even came close to this kind of obsession. It seemed she did not love my king any more, for which I was extremely grateful. But she didn't seem to look at me any more then she looked at the other men in the Golden Hall, and it was tearing me apart. I had always been second best, and I thought I had accepted that...but with Éowyn, I could not. I would not. I wanted her for my own, and I did not want to be second to any man.

I could not sleep the rest of the night.

In the morning, I cornered Éomer, and told him what Éowyn had told me last night. He looked by turns confused, shocked, and irritated. When I finished speaking, he burst out, "But why didn't she tell me?"

I shook my head. "I thought she was ashamed of how she felt. If I was in her place, that would be my feeling."

"Valar, Faramir, Éowyn has the right to happiness as much as I do!"

"I know, but she doesn't seem to think that. She...I'm not sure _what _she thinks, but I think she doesn't feel she deserves what she has, let alone what she could have."

Éomer's face grew dark. "I bet it was that bastard Eldred. She used to be in love with him, and he'd flirt with her, and then he went and broke her heart in the worst possible way."

I felt every word like a blow to the stomach. "Who was this?"

"Eldred. He's dead now...died at Helm's Deep."

Damn. That meant I couldn't gut him and hang his privates out to dry. Oh well. "What happened to her?"

"She was very depressed for a while, and then Gríma came, damn him, and made her feel even lower then she did then."

"She's a hero," I said, sternly telling my bloodlust to die. "My people worship her."

"As do my men, but the women think differently. They never say so, not to her face, but the maidservants tell me they gossip about her, saying she's unwomanly, a slut..." He sighed. "I'd put a stop to it but I don't know how."

So would I, Éomer. So I did, in fact...there is no gossip about Éowyn in my country. The people adore her, the men admire her, and the women think she is amazing...oh, if only I could take her to my home! She would get the kind of reverence there that she deserves. 

Éomer opened his mouth again, but someone came running up, a maidservant, the anonymous kind that always seem to be hysterical. "My lord, oh my lord!"

"What is it?" The king of Rohan was very obviously irritated. "I'm a bit busy!"

"My lady is gone," the servant sobbed. "Her bed is empty, and her clothes are all there, and her horse is still in the stables...oh, my lord!"

I could feel the blood draining from my face.

Éomer turned to me, and I could see his face was just as white as mine. "She must have been kidnapped," he whispered. "But why...who...Valar, the people worship her! Faramir, who could have taken her?" I only shook my head.

Éowyn, Éowyn, why did you not come in with me? You might still be here... The world was spinning too fast. She was gone...

I heard my own voice speaking. "I'll go after her."

A/N: ::gasps:: My my, could the plot actually have moved on a bit here? This is where opportunities for this plot to go really weird start to spring up…once again, tell me if the plot gets a little too far-fetched for you to swallow. 


	5. Kidnapped

Review Replies:

Niliwen: Yup he is, as demonstrated by this chapter...

Gryphix: It sort of is...except Éowyn isn't the one who's going to need rescuing. You'll see...heh heh.

Silindro: No, that guy comes in later, and he's solely to give Faramir some more chances for angst. This is somebody else...

Cassandra Anthemyst: Sorry about stealing the kidnappers/hell line, but it was just such a good line I couldn't resist. 

To everyone who pointed out the Théodwyn/Lothiriel thing, thank you! This is exactly what I need pointed out. ::sheepish look:: Sorry about that!

To everyone who pointed out the automatic assumption thing, that's me getting ahead of myself again. It should be fixed now, unless FFN decides to hate me again. Here's chapter five! 

By the way, Éowyn is slightly panicky in this chapter. She talks herself out of it in her next one, so you can all just relax now. 

Chapter Five: Kidnapped

I woke to a terrible pain in my head. I could see nothing but light, and I knew nothing of where I was, save that I was tied to the saddle of a horse and it was galloping. A sidesaddle, yet. Oh, the indignity.

The anger was swiftly overwhelmed by fear. The last thing I remembered was watching Faramir leave as I stood on the walls of Edoras. Then, something stuck my head, and blackness fell...no, wait, it had not fallen entirely. I had fought the hands that picked me up and slung me roughly over a shoulder, but another blow had sent the darkness crashing down in truth. 

It was no longer night. That I knew for certain. The warm sun shone on my skin and illuminated the blindfold over my eyes. I pulled back a little and was brought up short. My hands were tied to the pommel of the saddle. Kicking my feet experimentally, I found they were tied to the stirrups. 

Well, I had to say this for my kidnappers: they were thorough. I wore nothing more then my shift and gown, not even boots. I confirmed with a quick shake of my head that they had at least left me my hair-clasp. Without that to offer me comfort, the fear would surely have conquered me. The clasp was an ever-present reminder of hope, hope that my brother at least would seek to find me. 

I will not deny that I hoped Faramir would come. I knew not how he felt about me, or if he even cared that I was no longer in Edoras, but my daydreams always had him rescuing me, embarrassing as it would be to have the man I loved more then anything see me in a state of such weakness. But he had seen me in equal weakness the night before...and he had not seemed repulsed. He had even offered me what comfort was his to give, the comfort of a gentle heart that I loved. I took a deep breath. While I was waiting for someone to come help me escape, I could plan how to give my kidnappers hell. 

"Halt."

I was rudely jolted out of my daydreams by that voice, that slimy, persuasive voice I remembered all too well from those horrible months in Edoras before my uncle's restoration. Wormtongue had come for me. 

The horse I was on skidded to a halt as something pulled sharply on its head. Had I not been tied in, I would have fallen, something that did not escape Wormtongue's notice.

"Fool!" The sound of a slap, a high-pitched cry. "She must not be injured." Then footsteps approaching my horse. I pretended to be still unconscious, while my heart pounded in wild fear and my breath came short. A hand lay suddenly on my arm and it took all I had not to whimper in fear.

"I know you are awake, my lady Éowyn," the voice came, screeching across my nerves like a file on iron. "I saw you move not five minutes ago. You must know who I am." Hands on my hair, undoing the blindfold. For a terrible moment, I thought he was removing my hair-clasp, and I nearly threw up. Then the blindfold was gone. I saw instantly that we were somewhere in Rohan still, heading perhaps for the ruin of Isengarde, or even Helm's Deep. Then I looked down, and could not repress a whimper at the cold face I remembered too well.

"Yes, you do recognize me," he continued, smiling. That smile sent me flinching away from him, and sent his hand to grab the back of my neck, pulling me close to his face. "You will be mine," he whispered, his breath making me gag. I tried to pull away, but not before he planted a foul kiss on my mouth and shoved me away. "We camp here for the night," he called to his cronies. One pulled me down and tied me to a bush, while I shivered with reaction to the kiss and silently pleaded to the Valar to send me rescue soon.

Éomer, Faramir, come quickly, please! Please, before it's too late...


	6. Searching

Replies: 

Andrea: Yes, Éowyn does get to let the bloody side of her temper reign free. You'll see.

Gryphix: Here's your more soon…this is Faramir being panicky. 

A/N: As I said, Faramir being panicky. Éowyn next chapter. I do not own anything you recognize, sadly enough. I do, however, own Faramir's bloody-mindedness. More soon!

Chapter Six: Searching

We had only been riding two hours, and it was not as if the best trackers in the world were with us (my King had stayed behind under protest). But to my aching heart, it seemed as if days had passed and still no sign of my lady! I fretted and fidgeted until one of the riders, named Widfara, trotted up to me. "My lord Steward," he said, with exaggerated patience, "if you are not careful you will fret yourself right off the horse and we will have to present you to the White Lady with a broken leg."

I stopped fidgeting. Instead, I indulged myself with increasingly bloody daydreams of what I was going to do to whoever had kidnapped Éowyn. So much for the gentle heart my King praised so much. 

I had gotten to removing his innards and wrapping them around his neck when a cry went up from the front and Widfara cantered over to me. "My lord, we found something."

Well, what would you have done in my place? 

My heart leapt and throttled my voice. I could only nod and follow him, praying it was a sign she was alive. 

I sent my horse cantering over to the tracker, who knelt in a disturbed area, triumphantly holding up a blue thread that had been caught on a bush. Hoofprints led to the northwest, towards Isengarde, or maybe Helm's Deep. I still wasn't precisely clear on the geography of the area, having left Gondor but once before in my life, to journey to Edoras during the reign of Wormtongue. My company and I had a poor welcome, but I had seen the Lady Éowyn, and I had not been complete since. 

I dismounted, and knelt with the tracker. "You're sure it's from my lady's dress?"

"Almost sure, my lord." The man pointed at a few other marks in the dirt. "There's an imprint of horses in the dirt there, from the embroidery on her dress. But there's a faint possibility it could have been someone else."

I saw something else on the bush, and tugged it free. A long, pale-gold strand of hair lay against my palm. "No more is there doubt," I said, staring at the strand. "This is my lady's hair or I am a fool."

"You're no fool, my lord," the tracker said, after a moment of peering at the strand. "They went northwest."

"They were not trying to hide their tracks," another man said, sounding a bit puzzled. "Almost as if they wanted us to find them."

"There's no sign of any other tracks?" I asked, puzzled myself. The only explaination for this was if Éowyn had been taken in another direction while the rest continued northwest.

"No. None at all."

"Then we ride northwest. If she was taken elsewhere, we'll find that out when we get there."

So off we went, me trying to hide the dread that had started to grow. What if Éowyn was no longer alive? Then they would want us to follow them, to find her body. If she was dead....well, I didn't know what I would do.

I prayed very hard during that ride.


	7. Escape

Chapter Seven: Escape

A/N: I hate the mare's name but I couldn't think of anything else, nor could I find out the name of Éowyn's horse if Tolkein ever gave it one. Flame me at your pleasure.

Gryphix: Here's Éowyn being her feisty self again. 

I admit it, I panicked.

But wouldn't you? I mean, if your worst enemy, the man who had stalked you for as long as he had known you, kidnapped you, wouldn't you be scared?

Oh well. All that matters is I panicked. All during the northwest ride, I worried and fretted and dreamed up every possible scenario, provided it went badly for me. By the time they made camp, I was crying. Wormtongue thought it was due to the hard ride (which it was not. I'd been on hard rides since before I could walk. One more wasn't going to hurt me) and hit my leader again. Meanwhile, I huddled beneath my blanket and tried to make myself see sense.

I knew someone had to be coming to help me. Why wouldn't they? Unless they thought I was sulking somewhere. But when I didn't come to light, they'd come looking for me. So that was pretty much covered. But what if Wormtongue did something horrible to me in the meantime. I shivered and whimpered for a little more before the Dernhelm in me rose up and gave the hysterical lady a hefty mental kick.

I made myself calm down, and go over what my options were. I could just stay where I was and pray for rescue, but that did not sit well with my warrior instincts. I could try to escape, but I had no weapons, no horse, and no clothing other then my shift, my gown, and my hair-clasp. I suppose I could have used the hair-clasp as a weapon, but I was extremely reluctant to part with it, even if I could have reached it. 

All this reasoning left me with only one option: give my kidnappers hell. 

I began planning how best to do this. I could become a hysterical lady, but Wormtongue would never believe that. He knew me too well. Perhaps I could become ill with a relapse of the Black Breath. That would certainly slow them down, since tied-in or not I would fall out of the saddle. Perhaps...

My reasoning was broken off as a horse nudged me sharply in the middle of the back.

Startled, I sat straight up, making the bush next to me rattle. Thankfully, much time had passed as I calmed myself down, and all the men were asleep, except for a guard, who looked to be half-dead. I twisted around, and there was my faithful mare Whisper, saddled and bridled with my sword by her saddle!

Scratch giving my kidnappers hell. I was getting out of here. 

I reached over and tapped the inside of her foreleg, the signal for her to kneel. She did, bringing the hilt of my sword within my reach. I pulled it out and set it on the ground, kneeling on the hilt and using the blade to saw off my bindings. The sharp edge cut quickly, and within minutes, I was on Whisper's back, the stirrups chilling my bare feet. 

The bloodthirsty part of me begged to be allowed to kill Wormtongue, but the practical side refused. He was likely to scream bloody murder and I couldn't afford that. I did allow myself to scratch a crude picture of me waving goodbye, then sheathed my sword and took off. I was free!

Time to go home and tell my brother to improve his defenses. 


	8. Idiocy

Replies:

Silindro: Of course she's going to kill him. Have patience. 

distractedyoyo: He did set a guard…Whisper kinda trampled him. I guess I didn't make that clear. 

Artemis-chan: Here's what Faramir did…heeheehee. God, it's fun to be evil.

AUROR198: Don't worry…you'll get your mushy reunion. Eventually. After much more angst. Ought to make that the secondary category, except this is a bit too light-hearted for angst. 

Here's Faramir being stupid and Wormtongue being annoying. Enjoy!

Chapter Eight: Idiocy

Looking back on the events I now tell, I can say with absolute conviction that it was sheer idiocy that brought me to be captured. That, and the fact that my heart died a little more with every passing hour that we found no trace of Éowyn. They say that love is idiocy. It is certainly blind. 

I neglected to set a watch the night of the attack. I don't know why. Perhaps I was too caught up with worrying about Éowyn, or perhaps I assumed that they would not leave outriders. Well, we all know what assuming leads to, and in this case, it led to disaster. 

They came fast, with no warning until one of the men screamed. I was up instantly, my hand going to my sword. Around me, men on horseback tangled with my men. Widfara was attacking a rather large man who smelled bad, and several of the trackers huddled in a tight knot, defending themselves from a company of men who leered and taunted. No one seemed to be in any particular trouble except me, all alone, on the ground, with only my sword.

Someone came up behind me: the only warning I had was his stench drifting by my nose. If he hadn't been downwind of me I would very possibly have been killed. I whirled and met his sword with mine, fighting only to defend myself. A sound from behind me, and now I was fighting two, with no way to escape...

Something crashed upon my head and there was blackness.

When I woke, I was tied to a horse, the pommel of the saddle punching me in the stomach with every jolt and jounce of the horse's trot. I found my breath driven from my lungs, and I fought to breathe. Finally, the horse stopped, and the man riding behind me grabbed my hair, forcing my head up. "Our captive, my lord."

"Only one?" The voice was disgusting, slimy, and faintly familiar...

"Only one, but what a good one!" someone else chuckled, nastily. I concentrated on getting my breath back and wondering if they would take me to Éowyn. 

Another hand grabbed my chin and yanked my face towards its owner. I recognized the face immediately and could not hide a spasm of hatred. "Wormtongue."

"Indeed," he said, his face dark for some reason. "Am I to assmue that you are here to take what I have rightfully stolen?"

"If you mean the lady Éowyn, she is not yours to steal, and not anyone's to take," I said, trying to gather my scattered wits. 

"Yes, I meant her, and of course she's mine. She's a woman, chattel." I bit my lip, _hard._ Oh, how I wanted to kill this man. Being bound up does have its disadvantages. "It doesn't matter, anyway," Wormtongue continued. "What have you done with her?"

"Nothing," I said, gritting my teeth. "_You_ took her."

"I did, but the stupid wench _escaped!" _Well. Of course. Stupid me. I should have known Éowyn wouldn't sit around and wail for rescue. She'd get herself out of there. Brilliant, Faramir, you go off to rescue a woman who doesn't need rescuing and get yourself captured.

For a brief moment, I was glad my brother wasn't alive anymore. The mere thought of his teasing on this subject was too much to bear.

Wormtongue interpreted my silence as insolence and slapped me across the face. "Tie him up. We'll hold him hostage in exchange for her." He chuckled nastily. "The king of Rohan can do without his sister...I hear he is to marry. But Gondor cannot live without her Steward."

Brilliant, Faramir. Just brilliant. 


	9. Oh, Dear Valar

Replies:

Alice: No, he isn't going to hear the end of it. Not ever. ::giggles evilly::

Asia: Two more chapters, then no more Wormtongue…

Claire: Wow, the top five? Really? ::feels so loved:: Thanks!

Silindro: Skilled punishment (wink wink nudge nudge) eh? I'm sure Éowyn could arrange that…

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Silindro, because I love you. ::grins:: Boromir belongs to her. To everyone who liked Faramir's comment about being teased for the rest of his life….heh heh heh. He's in trouble. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own no one. Except possibly Whisper and Faramir's stupidity. 

Chapter Nine: Oh, Dear Valar

For the first time in my life, I felt like killing Faramir.

No, really. It passed quickly, but I stayed irritated with him. I'd gotten back to Edoras, told Éomer off and waited for Faramir to come back, but he hadn't. His men came back without him, and told us what happened. Apparently, he'd forgotten to set a watch one night, and Wormtongue had attacked. No one had died, but Faramir had gone and gotten himself captured. I was seriously annoyed with him, because now I would have to leave Edoras again and go help him.

I was pacing in the quiet parlor set apart for private audiences, and pondering how to persuade Éomer to let me go after Faramir when I heard a sudden exclamation from behind me. My skirts flared as I whirled to see who had invaded my privacy.

I felt as if someone had punched me in the stomach. 

Faramir stood at the door, but it wasn't Faramir. This man was older, more careworn, with troubled eyes and darker hair. Somehow, I knew that he was a warrior, with the blood of many on his hands, not like my gentle Faramir.

"My lady," he said, and bowed. "Forgive me for startling you." His voice was so like Faramir's. Perhaps a touch deeper.

"My lord." I did not curtsy, or even nod, being in a belligerent mood and angry with the world to boot. "What do you do in the Golden Hall?"

"I came to visit Aragorn," he said, running a hand through his hair. "He was angry with me for taking so long."

"I beg your pardon?"

He gasped in mock-surprise, his eyes laughing. "My lady, have I not introduced myself? I am Boromir. You may know my brother."

"Boromir," I breathed, remembering the many tales Faramir had told me of his childhood in the Houses of Healing. Always those tales had included his brother, and always they had ended with Faramir's eyes darkening in sorrow. The two had loved each other greatly, that I knew. "I...have heard of you."

"If it was from Faramir, I am sure none of it was good."

"Actually a great deal of it was...and it was not all from Faramir. The hobbits liked you, too."

"Did they." The sadness in his eyes increased. "I've done nothing to deserve it."

"I'm certain that's not true." Suddenly tired of this courtly conversation, I asked bluntly, "Weren't you dead?"

"Um. I'm not sure. I think so. But something happened...still not sure what. Woke up halfway down the waterfall, which was _not_ fun. Then I landed in the river." He shrugged. "I lived. Barely, but I lived. Waited until my bones knit, then got myself over to Lothlorien and the Lady Galadriel healed me. It was well worth enduring those knowing looks she kept giving me."

I was not quite certain what to say to that, so I changed the subject. "Did you know your brother got himself captured?"

"Yes," he said, the sadness suddenly overtaken by laughter again. "I heard he got himself kidnapped going after a maiden who was kidnapped, but rescued herself."

"The maiden would be me," I said, slightly irritated by this man. 

"My apologies." He wasn't sorry at all. "I suppose I shall have to rescue him. Again."

"That won't be necessary." I didn't feel like elaborating so did not respond to his interested look. "Forgive me, I must go."

He bowed, and looked after me as I went. I had the distinct feeling he'd been flirting with me, and I was not interested. Much as he resembled Faramir on the outside, it was not Faramir's looks I had fallen in love with...although I had to admit both were handsome. No, it was the Steward's kind heart and gentle hands that I loved so much. 

I was now resolved. I would not bother to ask Éomer, but take Whisper and go myself, tonight. Faramir deserved help, and he deserved to see his brother again.

I would not let myself wonder what he would feel upon seeing me. 


	10. Rescue

Replies:

Artemis-chen: Nope, he's never gonna live it down. :} If you ever wanted to see Aragorn being entirely evil…

Asia: Boromir is staying alive. I've already written the end and it's nowhere near as funny if Boromir isn't there. 

Gryphix: I'll let Faramir answer that one for himself…

Silindro: I know he's flirting with you. He merely flirts with Éowyn so Faramir has an excuse to go all angsty again.

Auror198: Faramir is too still the Steward. Boromir wouldn't touch the position with a ten-foot-pole now that someone _else _has it. And…um…this reunion is sort of mushy but I get the feeling it isn't as mushy as you'd like…how about I REALLY pour on the sap later? 

Alex: What's the snoopy dance?

Vie and Liz: Here's your more, right here!

A/N: Whew…lotsa reviewsies…sorry if this chapter is a mite short, but the next one's a doozy, so hang in there. Without further ado, here's the next part, In Which Éowyn saves Faramir's butt and Faramir thinks naughty thoughts. 

Chapter Ten: Rescue

I sat in a chilly, filthy cell in the depths of Helm's Deep. I never would have thought that Wormtongue would dare use it for a stronghold, but I supposed if Rohan used it, anyone could. The door had been unlocked. 

But then, the Deeping Wall had been breeched in a battle three and a half years ago. Rohan must count it useless now, so Wormtongue felt it safe to use.

Well, none of this musing was getting me anywhere. I had an escape to plan. I had to get back to Éowyn, and see what she thought of me. She probably thought I was stupid. _I _thought I was stupid. Maybe I could redeem myself by escaping. But how?

I pondered that for several hours, only to be interrupted by a commotion at the door. I moved to the barred window, and saw a girl trying to get past the guard. She carried a basket on one white arm, and her face was smudged with soot, as were the few strands of hair that escaped her kerchief. I could not tell the color of her hair, and I realize that this alone should have alerted me.

"Please," she said in a high, breathless voice. "Please, my papa...you took him captive."

I had no children and there were no other prisoners. I began to have a sneaking suspicion that this girl was not all she seemed.

"Get along," the guard snarled.

"Please!" Her voice shrilled higher. "Please! I'll do anything..."

"Anything, aye?" He leered. I winced and silently told the girl to run.

"Anything..." she breathed, edging nearer to the guard. He laughed and reached for her...

...only to be thumped over the head with a heavy piece of wood. The girl smirked, and reached for his keys. 

What was she doing? I wondered, watching her. I didn't know her...or did I?

She turned quickly to scan the cell doors, and a single, pale gold thread of hair escaped the kerchief to dangle down her back. Staggered, I whispered a name. 

"Éowyn?"

"There you are!" She hurried over to my cell. "Valar, Faramir, what were you doing?"

"Being stupid," I answered ruefully, startling a laugh out of her as she searched through the keys. 

"I think it's this one," she announced at last, and inserted it in the depths of the lock. It was indeed: the door swung open. I repressed the urge to pull her into my arms and just hold her. She looked at me for a moment, and I sensed a longing in her to do the same...but it vanished, and I dismissed it as wishful thinking. "Here," she said, shoving the basket at me. "There's a guard's uniform in there. Hurry and change, and we'll go back to Edoras."

"Have you got a horse for me?"

She shook her head. "Just Whisper, but she can carry us double if we don't ride too hard."

"All right," I said, trying to ignore the thought of riding behind Éowyn for several days and failing completely. "Um...I'll just change then."


	11. Getting Out

A/N: For Silindro. Because she's the only reason you're getting another one today.

Chapter Eleven: Escape

Well, I'd found him, and I'd thought I'd seen something, for one moment, in his eyes...but I refused to allow myself to wonder what it meant. We had to get out of Helm's Deep first. I could worry about what he felt later. 

My heart and body wanted to worry about it _now,_ especially since we'd be riding double back to Edoras. I wondered now if I'd only brought Whisper on purpose...so that he would hold me, even if he didn't feel a thing for me. I would at least have that memory to cherish.

I drove those thoughts from my mind and peered around yet another corner. Yet again, there was no one in sight, and I turned to beckon Faramir on. He came quietly after me, and I took a moment to bless the Valar that he trusted me. I thought briefly and cynically that his brother probably would have insisted on leading, and we'd both have gotten caught, since neither of them had ever been in Helm's Deep, whereas I knew it like the back of my hand. 

"Are we almost there?" Faramir's breath stirred the hairs on the back of my neck, and his voice was so soft I knew only I could hear it. In fact, I wondered if I would have heard it, if his mouth hadn't been so close to my neck.

Oh, Valar. I couldn't think about his mouth.

"I think so," I answered, just as softly. "A few more turnings and we are in the Caves. Then we can go out through the hole in the Deeping Wall. Whisper is over beyond the Dike."

"That sounds good," he started, but stopped speaking abruptly. I knew why, and goosebumps rose on my arms....Wormtongue stood not ten paces in front of us. I swallowed and tried to think.

"Faramir...you stay here. I'll go on and distract him...you see if you can get out around him." I moved forward, and he caught my hand. I turned, and saw great worry in his eyes. 

"I..." he started, then stopped, and continued, "Be careful."

"I will." I took a deep breath, then pulled my hand away from Faramir's and sauntered out into the corrider. 

Wormtongue turned around and smiled. He probably thought it was suave. I wanted to throw up. "My lady. What are you doing here?"

I giggled vapidly. "I'm no lady, my lord, and I was just visiting some of the guards."

"Visiting. Indeed." Valar, the man had a filthy mind. "And you are a lady." 

"Oh, no, my lord!" Faramir was across the corridor and safely behind a door. I giggled again. "I'm so sorry, my lord, but I fear I must go..."

He grabbed my arm. "I know who you are, Lady Éowyn, and I can only wonder why you came back."

I pulled away from him, sheer panic giving me strength. The only reassurance that I had was the dagger in my basket. "M-my lord..."

"Let us abandon this pretense. I assume you are here to rescue the Lord Faramir, or perhaps take his place...? Although I cannot imagine why. Unless you think him to be in love with you." He chuckled. "Perhaps you have deluded yourself into thinking that he loves you, and he certainly has deluded you into believing you love him."

"What do you mean?" I whispered. I knew I'd blown my cover. It didn't matter.

"He lusts after you, certainly, but all men do. No man can love _you_, Éowyn. You are too cold. I begin to think you cannot feel at all."

No, no, he was wrong. I loved Faramir, I knew I did. But he...oh, Valar. 

"There is only one thing men will ever want from you, and it is all they will ever want. You will never..."

I lost my temper. Reaching into my basket, I hurled the dagger.


	12. Edoras

Replies:

To everyone who asked if Wormtongue dies, one word. Yup.

claire: Of course a happy ending. I'm a sucker for happy endings. Not saying who it's a happy ending for, though. 

Dollyrocker: It's an AU, which means I'm not listening to canon most of the time. I like Boromir (whose name I am constantly misspelling as Bormoir) so I brought him back, and Wormtongue I wanted. As for the language, I know. ::hangs head:: Bad me.

Silindro: Boy, someone's mind is in the gutter. Here's chapter 12!

Chapter Twelve: Edoras

I was seriously worried as Whisper approached Edoras at a steady canter. Éowyn had barely spoken three words since we left Helm's Deep, and I wondered what I'd done. She hadn't seemed too disgusted at my stupidity. It must have been something Wormtongue said to her. I hadn't caught a single word, which annoyed me greatly. If only I knew! Then I could cheer her up, perhaps.

Not just then, of course. I was too busy getting my body to behave. Riding behind the woman you're madly in love with for three days is not to be recommended. At least, not if you don't want to totally embarrass yourself and her.

A terrible thought occured to me. What if she'd felt...and she was in love with someone else?

Oh, Valar. 

Before I could dwell too much on this, we rode into the city. The people cheered Éowyn, and a warm feeling rose in my heart. At least the people of Edoras gave my lady the reverence she deserved as a hero of Gondor and Rohan. 

"Éowyn! You got him!" Éomer and my king ran out of the Golden Hall, both smiling. My king had a wicked grin on his face, and I almost turned around and went right back to Helm's Deep. Aragorn would probably never let me forget this.

"Hey, Faramir! What on _earth_ were you doing? Being stupid?"

I really did turn around then. Boromir would _definately_ never let me forget this. My king grabbed my collar, and I tried to hide behind Éowyn. She laughed, turning to look at me. "Hide me," I whispered. 

"What? The great Steward afraid of his brother?" Inwardly, I rejoiced. She was speaking to me again!

"He's _never_ going to let me forget this."

She laughed again, pulling me out from behind her. "Here he is, my lord Boromir. I suggest you torment him beyond all bearing."

"Oh, believe me, my lady, I will." Boromir grinned at me, and I recognized the same evil spark in his eyes that he'd had when he taught me how to play with Gandalf's fireworks.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" I grumbled. A sudden, even more terrible thought occured to me. Was she in love with _Boromir..._?

If she was, I didn't know what I would do. I couldn't deny my brother anything, and even less could I deny Éowyn the chance to love where she would. But how would I survive? With her married to Boromir, I would be forced to see their happiness, and every moment I spent with them my heart would be torn apart. I knew that eventually it would become too much for me to bear. 

Boromir shook his head, still grinning. "Oh, relax, little brother, I won't start teasing yet. You and I have some talking to do. I hear you're Steward."

"Yes." I showed him the ring. "But it's all yours if you want it."

"_Valar,_ no!" The violence of his reply shocked me, and it must have showed. He grinned again. "Dear Faramir, I never really wanted to be Steward. I wanted to be a captain. You are suited for it, I'm not. I wouldn't touch the position with a ten-foot pole, not with someone competent in charge." I grinned.

"I'm not in charge, my king is."

"Ah, yes, Aragorn. Did you know I found him obnoxious and annoying when I first met him?"

"You were equally obnoxious, as well as being bloodthirsty and slightly power-crazed," Aragorn put in. I laughed.

"Not power-crazed, not Boromir, oh no. More like totally insane. As for bloodthirsty..." I ducked the swipe Boromir made at my head. He got my arm instead and twisted it up behind my back. I yelped, more from surprise then pain, and saw Éowyn turn, an expression of fear on her face, fear and...something else? In shock, I stopped putting up a fight, and yelped in real pain as Boromir pulled my arm too far. He let it go immediately.

"Sorry about that." When I didn't answer, he waved a hand in front of my face. "Faramir? Faramir. WAKE UP!"

The last he shouted in my ear. I jumped, and grinned, sheepishly.

"What were you up in the mists about?" he asked.

I was about to tell him the truth--I always had, before he died (I made a mental note to ask him about that later)--but then the thought of Éowyn and Boromir thudded into my stomach again. 

_Second best..._

"Nothing," I replied, and tried a smile. It must have looked fake, because Boromir kept eyeing me suspiciously. 

"Look," he said at last, "let's go inside. We have much to talk about, and I doubt all Edoras wants to be privy to our affairs."

"Wants, maybe. Needs, no. Let's go in."

I tried to forget the look Éowyn had given Boromir when we came back as I followed my brother in. 


	13. Explaining

Replies:

Asia: No nekkid action yet. Patience. The sappyness also will come later. 

Silindro: Yup, much tension. And Asia's mind will be joining yours soon, I believe.

Lurker: Three chapters, all for you. ::grins::

Alex: You caught that. meep. Sorry. 

Artemis-chan: Here's Faramir acting like a git. You're psychic!

Sophy: Yes, they're stupid. ::grins::

A/N: EEE! One hundred reviews! Are you all aware that this is my most popular fic? ::is amazed:: In celebration of one hundred reviews, you guys are getting three, yes, you read that right, THREE chapters at once, so we can get to the fluff. ::grins::

Chapter 13: Explaining

Éomer had the courtesy to wait until we got inside before he began to yell at me.

I tuned him out, only catching the occasional word, like 'terrified,' 'Wormtongue,' and 'idiot.' When he started to turn purple, I interrupted him gently. "Éomer, if you keep on like that you're going to have an attack of apoplexy. Now explain quietly and in short sentances what I did wrong."

He breathed audibly for a few minutes, then said, "I was so worried! For all I knew, you'd been captured again."

"Whisper was gone and you'd doubled the guards," I said, staying calm. "It was unlikely."

"It was Wormtongue!"

"Who is dead." Éomer shut up, staring at me. I half-smiled. "You heard me right. He's dead. I killed him." I didn't elaborate on why.

"All right. So some good did come of this. But why did you go running off to rescue Lord Faramir? He was being idiotic."

"I know," I said, softly. I could hardly tell Éomer that love makes you an idiot, because I didn't know if Faramir loved me. I also couldn't tell my brother how the idea of him being so worried about me gave me a strange and exuberant joy, nor could I tell him why I'd really gone after the Steward. "I...he went to rescue me, so I felt it was only honorable to go after him and repay the debt."

Éomer gave me an odd look, almost as if he'd read my mind. I took a deep breath, and waited until my brother finally said, "I wonder if there was more to it then that."

"No," I lied.

He recognized the 'drop-it' tone in my voice and changed the subject. "Do you like my lord's brother? I do, very much."

"I...like him," I said, thinking hard. "He irritates me, though. If he'd stop treating me like a delicate courtly maiden I might like him more."

Éomer grinned. "So a Rider of the Mark cannot control her own emotions?"

That stopped me dead. I turned, my mouth hanging open. "What did you say?"

"I'm officially making you a Rider, for that daring escape and managing to rescue my lord Faramir. The added bonus of killing Wormtongue is icing on the cake." He extended a hand: in it lay a silver pin in the shape of a cantering horse. The pin that every Rider owned, the one I'd always wanted. 

I took it, stunned. "I...I don't know what to say..."

"Then how about, 'Thank you, Éomer, dearest brother. I shall worship you forever?'"

I gave him a Look that made my feelings about that very clear. 

"Or not. Speaking of the Riders, have you ever thought about getting married?"

This was such a non sequitur I responded truthfully. "Yes...but what has that to do with the Riders?"

"You know the rules: they can't get married until they've served a certain number of years in the ranks, to make sure any children they have aren't left fatherless. I'm going to waive those rules for you, since you already have plenty of experience without having to serve for years." He laughed, then suddenly looked serious. "Now who were you thinking about marrying?"

"No one in particular," I said hastily.


	14. Talking

A/N: To slash fans: don't read too deeply into this. That's more then a bit squicky and this _is_ an Éowyn/Faramir fic. Just thought I'd say that.

Chapter Fourteen: Talking

Boromir led me to a small room in the heart of the Golden Hall. It was a quiet parlor, with no windows to the outside, no doubt meant for private audiences. Well, he and I did have a lot to catch up on.

The very first thing I took care of as soon as he turned around from locking the door. Grabbing him, I pulled my elder brother into a bear-hug. The talking could wait. He hugged me back, and finally ended the hug by tousling my hair, like he used to do when we were young and I wasn't big or strong enough to beat him up. 

"Little brother," he said, "have we got a _lot_ to talk about."

"Understatement of the year." I sat down. "First things first...we heard you were dead."

"As usual, you get straight to the most confusing part." He sprawled on a bench. "I don't really know what happened. I think I died. I'm really not sure. Last thing I remember is Aragorn's ugly mug about three inches from my face, then nothing. Next thing I remember, I'm halfway down a waterfall."

Having fallen off a waterfall once when I was six, I knew how that felt, and winced. "Ouch."

"Like you wouldn't believe: this is the waterfall by the Argonath that I'm talking about."

I winced again, harder.

"Anyway...I got washed up on shore and lay there in immense pain, and then the elves showed up."

"Elves? Really?"

"Lothlorien ones. Apparently the Lady Galadriel had seen my fate and sent them to get me. She healed me and I went out wandering. Saw the big bang...was that you, by the way?"

"What, Sauron being defeated? No, I was home, in the Houses of Healing, with-" I hesitated, then continued, "Anyway, Aragorn and Gandalf were there, but Frodo and Sam were the ones who destroyed the Ring."

"Knew he could do it, that is, if he could avoid people like me." The look on his face prevented me from commenting on this. "Anyway, when I saw _that, _I meandered back down to Lothlorien to find out what was going on, then wandered for a few more years before I got up the courage to go home." He grinned. "The gate-guards sent me on to Edoras. That's a lovely lady our king has."

"She is," I agreed, my mind on a different lady. "But no more lovely then..." I managed to stop myself.

"All right, Faramir, that's the second time you've avoided mentioning Éowyn. How long have you been head-over-heels for her?"

"What?" I sputtered. I mean, I knew he knew something, but I hadn't expected him to see it so quickly.

"Oh, come on, Faramir. Everyone in Minas Tirith and Edoras from Aragorn and Éomer on down is eagerly awaiting developments in your romance." He paused for a moment, then added, "Well, maybe not Éomer. But everyone else."

I gaped. 

"Don't be an idiot. Everyone can see the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you, for that matter."

I gaped more. 

Boromir, exasperated, shook his head. "There's no getting through to you, is there? Oh well. Ask her. Ask her if she loves you. And come tell me first...I have ten gold crowns riding on this."

_ "What?" _This was ridiculous. __

"I bet Aragorn ten gold crowns that she tells you first," he said, unashamed of anything. That was Boromir, right down to the ground. This was, however, a mischevious side of my king that I hadn't seen before. I made a mental note to ask Arwen if she knew anything about his personality growing up. 

"I want five of those crowns."

"One."

"Four."

"Two."

"Three."

"Done. Go win us some money."

I rose and exited, not at all sure I would actually ask Éowyn. Knowing my brother, it would not at all surprise me if he was completely oblivious to a lady's attraction to him...and I had seen the way Éowyn looked at him. 


	15. Declaration

A/N: Here's your fluff! Review!

Chapter Fifteen: Declaration

I couldn't sleep again.

Since this whole adventure had begun, I had found myself growing closer and closer to Faramir. I thought we were friends, at least. I dared even hope close friends. But now...now, he had stopped talking to me, and avoided me. Whenever we feasted together in the Golden Hall, I would catch him watching me with a look of pain in those wonderful gray eyes. Yet whenever I looked at him, he would turn abruptly away and begin talking to whoever was sitting next to him.

Boromir was going around snickering and refused to tell me anything at all. Arwen had no idea what was going on, and neither did Aragorn. Éomer knew something, but I could tell he didn't even have half the true story, so I didn't bother to ask him. 

My confusion and half-despair only added to the insomnia caused by a longing that had sharpened to pain. Soon, I could no longer bear to stay in my chambers, and I went out to the wall again, taking my hair-clasp as always, and leaving my Rider pin behind. I didn't realize the symbolism of this choice until much later.

I regretted my decision as soon as I got up there. A shadow against the moon turned swiftly as I stepped onto the top of the wall, and I realized it was Faramir. My heart twisted so painfully that for a moment, I could neither speak nor move. It was too late then to go back. I knew he had seen me and I could not pretend I couldn't see him. 

"My lady," he said softly. I suppressed tears; he no longer even called me by my name. "Insomnia?" I nodded, still unable to speak, and came to stand beside him. "I too find myself unable to sleep."

The pain I heard in his voice was too much. Even if he was hurting because he loved another woman, I would help him as much as I could, because I loved him. How could I deny him the chance to be happy? "My lord," I said, clenching my hands, "why is there such pain in your voice? Can I help?"

"There's nothing wrong. I..." Something seemed to overcome him and he swung around to face me. "No, there is something wrong, and I can be silent no longer. How much do you love my brother?"

_That_ caught me completely flat-footed. Boromir? The one man in the universe I loved thought I was in love with _Boromir?_ "I'm not," I said, too astonished to lie even if I wanted to. "I never was. He irritates me."

Faramir released a long sigh. "He will be disappointed. Not that you don't love him," he added hastily, "but that you haven't fallen prey to his charms." A wry smile twisted the corner of the Steward's mouth. "He seems to think no woman can resist him."

"He can just think again," I retorted, too tired to be polite. "I've already fallen prey to someone else's charms."

Faramir's shoulders, which had relaxed, tightened again. "Have you now. May I ask who?"

The pain was doubled now. And suddenly everything came crystal clear: the way he watched me, why he avoided me and spoke rarely when we were together, the jealousy and pain in his voice when he spoke of Boromir.

Faramir loved me. 

He loved _me. _Me! For once, I wasn't speechless. "Why, you, of course," I replied, as seriously as I could.

His shoulders tightened more. "Stop teasing me."

"I am not teasing you!" All my pent-up emotions released themselves in a sudden flood of tears. I felt humiliated and embarrassed, to cry in front of him, but what could I do? "I love you, and I have since Sauron was defeated..." The disbelief on his face cut me to the heart. What if I had been wrong? "What do I have to do to convince you? Anything you want, I swear, just _believe me!"_

His face didn't change. I turned away, still crying. He didn't believe me. I had broken open my heart and told him everything, and he didn't believe me. 

A gentle touch on the back of my head stopped me where I stood. 

Slight tugging on my hair, then he stepped in front of me, his face full of wonder, holding my hair-clasp. "You kept this?"

I nodded. "I have worn it as often as I could. I thought...I felt as if you were still near me."

"You really love me?" The awe brought something else into focus: he had always been second-best. He feared that I would reject him as not good enough. My poor Faramir! Well, I would see to it that he knew he was not second-best to me.

"I really do." I swiped a hand across my eyes, knowing if I cried much longer, my nose would swell up and turn red, and that was hardly attractive.

"Oh...oh. I thought.." 

"I think I know what you thought," I interrupted gently. "You've always been second-best...you thought I loved Boromir." He nodded, smiling reluctantly. I smiled in return. "Well, I don't."

"I still can't quite believe.." he began, then stopped, running a hand through his hair and giving me a surprisingly shy smile. 

Well, if he still couldn't believe me...

I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I kissed him.

His arms slid gently around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I didn't pull away. Maybe I should have. Oh well. All I know is that I don't ever want Éomer to find out what we did next. 


	16. Telling

Replies:

Silindro: Jeez, you have a dirty mind…Okay, people, if you want an extra end to chapter fifteen, go look at Silindro's Declarations of Love. It works perfectly well in the context.

Artemis-chan: Wow, I characterized them right! Actually, that's just how Boromir struck me in the books: a slightly suspicious guy who has a loving, playful relationship with his brother, who's basically one of the only people he really cares about. Anyway. 

A/N: From here on out, it's total fluff, all for you people who have so patiently waited for me to finish with the angst. Enjoy!

Chapter Sixteen: Telling

I think I was more nervous then I'd ever been in my life. I had to walk straight into the middle of court and request general permission to marry from my king and permission to marry Éowyn specifically from Éomer. I was not looking forward to that last.

"Faramir!" Aragorn hailed me with a smile as I walked into the Golden Hall. "So you've stopped moping! What are you all dressed up for?"

Boromir turned away from flirting with a pretty Rohan maiden and burst into a fit of snickering. I shot him a glare, then turned to my king and queen. Arwen looked me up and down, twisted in her seat to glance at Éowyn, who was smiling encouragement at me, and settled again with a knowing smile. Aragorn gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head.

I swallowed hard. "My king," I said, in my most formal manner, "I would request a boon of you."

"Ask away." He was obviously amused at my formality, and so was I, a little, but this was too important to mess up. A deep breath and then the plunge...

"I wish to marry and I ask your permission to do so."

Excited chatter broke out immediately, and the entire court clustered into tiny groups, speculating, no doubt, on my choice of bride. I could only wonder what would have happened if this had taken place in Gondor. 

Aragorn raised a dark eyebrow. "You have my permission. I suppose it's very bad form to ask who the lucky lady is."

"It is," I replied agreeably, then turned to Éomer. My heart started to pound, and I glanced up at Éowyn. She winked, and new hope rose. "My lord Éomer, I request permission to wed your sister." 

Éomer glanced up at my lady and said something to her. A hush fell over the room just in time to catch her quiet but deadly reply: "Éomer, if you say no, I swear to all the Valar you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

"All right, all right! You may."

Dead silence, then the noise of many doors banging as the entire court made a rapid exit, no doubt to inform the rest of Edoras of their White Lady's fate.

I paid no attention anything else after that. My lady came down to me, and I kissed her hand formally, then pulled her into my arms and just held her for a moment. Éomer was grumbling and looking murderous by the time I was finished. Judging from his red face, my king was attempting to keep from bursting into laughter. Arwen was smiling softly, and my _dear_ brother Boromir was rolling around on the floor, holding his sides and laughing himself sick.


	17. Wedding

Replies: 

Asia: Yea, you do have a one-track mind. I'm slightly frightened now.

Mysterious Black Cat: Boromir was rolling on the floor because I as the author found it funny. :)

Cassandra Anthemyst: Of course Éomer didn't enjoy that. Éomer is bent on protecting Éowyn's virtue and therefore spoiling all her fun.

Malta: I don't think it was my idea. But use it all you want!

Silindro: Thanks, I love you too. :)

Acacia: Fast rate? I haven't updated in over a week! And I feel just awful about it too. Here's fluff to make up for it.

Auror: No, not over yet….one more chapter after this and then a SEQUAL! Woot woot!

Gryphix: Hopefully. :)

Iska Anoron: Not done yet, and thanks for the compliments!

Lurker: Yup you do and here it is! Without further ado:

A/N: AUGHHHH! Have not updated in over a week! This chapter is pure fluff. Just so you know and all. 

Chapter Seventeen: Wedding 

"Dear Valar. I am so nervous."

"Naturally." Arwen continued brushing my hair, the soft strokes calming me as she spoke. "I imagine Faramir is too. I know I certainly was, and Estel and I had loved each other for far longer then you and your lord." She chuckled. "Or at least we told each other sooner."

I blushed, hotly. It was only three weeks since Faramir and I had confessed our love to each other, and no one had let us forget it, least of all Éomer and Boromir. "It isn't funny."

"Yes it is. Do you want your hair up or loose?"

"Loose, I think. We don't have enough time to put it up."

"True," Arwen said, glancing at the sun outside the window. "Here. It's a good thing you waited for spring, or you wouldn't have all these lovely flowers for your hair." She placed the wreath gently on my head, and I stood up, smoothing the white dress down over my stomach. 

"You look lovely, Éowyn," she said, smiling. 

I did, too. White had always been my best color. Arwen had produced white flowers from her garden, and her grandmother had sent silver roses from Lothlorien. I adored those silver roses, and if I ever went to Lothlorien I would beg some seedlings from the Lady. 

I was getting nervous again. My stomach churned and rolled, and for one moment I felt as though I would throw up, but it passed. I reached up and touched my hair-clasp (which I still refused to part with) and my confidence returned. He who gave me that would not abandon me.

"Come, Lady Éowyn," Arwen said softly. "Your wedding awaits."

I followed her out into the hall of Minas Tirith. It had made sense to have the wedding here, since Éomer and Lothirial had been married here only a week ago. My brother had stopped grumbling right about then, and the entire population of Edoras had trooped down to Minas Tirith anyway, so no one would miss out. 

Speaking of the entire population of Edoras...they all seemed to be waiting in the Great Hall of Minas Tirith, and the butterflies in my stomach instantly tripled in number. It was very quiet, and the priest who stood ahead was being eyed closely by Gandalf. Aragorn, looking quite miffed at being an ordinary groomsman, stood next to Merry and Pippin, and I smiled to see them. Merry waved, and got smacked by Pippin, then Aragorn moved between them and a disaster was averted. Boromir stood next to the altar, looking unbearably smug, and next to him...

My butterflies disappeared. Next to Boromir stood Faramir, his hair neatly combed for once, and love and joy shining out of his gray eyes. How could I be nervous, with him waiting for me? I smiled back at him, and as I stepped into the Great Hall, I saw my future. It was a future filled with love, happiness, laughter, friendship, and eventually children. I knew there would be trials, but after the ones we had already faced, I knew we could come through them together.

I came even with Faramir, took his hand, and faced the priest. 


	18. Epilogue

Cassandra Anthemyst: Sophy dear, you have a dirty mind.

Gold Dragon of Egypt: The fic is over. OVER. No more screwing with these poor people. (pause) At least not until the sequal.

Asia: Good girl. :) And here at last is some evidence of nekkid action.

Gryphix: Was that a hint? Because if it was, I've already taken it. And if it wasn't, you're psychic.

Artemis-chan: Wow, I feel so loved!

A/N: Hurrah! Is FINALLY finished! Chapter has a double-dedication: to Artemis-chan for your undying devotion, and to asia for the constant reviews. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! The sequal will be started eventually. ::winkwink:: I might be encouraged to post it sooner…::winkwink::

Epilogue

I paced outside the doorway of the House of Healing, unable to rest or think. My king watched me go back and forth with an amused expression on his face. "Faramir, you are going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep doing that. You are not helping your lady by pacing."

"I know, but I cannot help it!" I took a deep breath and leaned against the wall. "I'm...nervous, I suppose, but mostly worried about her."

"As I was when Eldarion was born but you see all went well with him. I assume the midwives know what they are doing."

"Besides, Faramir," Boromir put in from where he was sprawled in the opposite bench, "your lady is healthy and strong, stronger then most. She will be _fine." _A moment later he added, "It's you I'm worried about."

"Do you think he'll have a heart attack?" my king asked, thoughtfully.

"Oh, no," Boromir said, clearly enjoying this, "I think he'll forget to breathe. I'll have to revive him."

"Perhaps he'll go straight through the floor if he keeps pacing like that."

"And knock his head on the rock below."

Well, there was no dealing with that. I ignored them and went back to pacing. My king rolled his eyes but thankfully did not comment, and my brother snickered.

It seemed like hours later (although according to my king it was but thirty minutes, if that) when a child wailed from inside the house. I whirled and stared at the door. 

"He looks like a hopeful puppy, don't you think?" I made a mental note to get Boromir later.

The door opened and a midwife peered out. My king and my brother both got up, but she snapped, "Not either of _you_. My lord Steward, your lady is asking for you."

I could not resist throwing a triumphant look at Boromir, who stuck out his tongue in response, startling me into a laugh as I closed the door.

The midwife led me to a small room off the hall where my lady lay, her golden hair spread out on the pillow, damp with sweat. She smiled at me, and held out her hand, which I caught, kneeling beside her. "And how are you?" I asked, softly.

"Better then I have been in a long while." Éowyn pulled my hand to the small bundle she held in the crook of her arm. "She has your hair, and mouth."

The baby opened eyes as blue as my lady's to stare at me, a small shock of downy dark hair drying on her forehead. I touched her cheek, and she tried to bite my finger, twisting her head in vain as I pulled my hand away, laughing. "She has your spirit, my lady. What shall we name her?"

"What? You mean you have not already thought of a thousand names?" She was teasing me, laughter in her eyes.

"Well, I have," I admitted. "But I wanted to know what your choices were."

"Ithilawyn," she said, caressing our daughter's cheek. Our daughter...those words still sent a thrill through me, a thrill that covered any resentment I might have felt that she tried to bite _me _and not her mother.

"Ithilawyn," I repeated. "Moon-joy."

She only smiled.

"Well, I suppose I shall have to introduce her to Boromir and my king," I said, getting up and sitting on the side of the bed, absently caressing Éowyn's hair. "They were teasing me unmercifully about being worried."

"I should have been angry if you were not worried, my lord," she said, looking up at me. "Perhaps I should illustrate to your brother what an angry woman can do."

"Not my king?"

She heaved a dramatic sigh. "I'm sure Aragorn knows already." A smile broke out. "Here, take her."

I nearly dropped the baby when Éowyn shoved her into my arms. My lady made a tsking sound and rearranged my arms around the child. "Hold her like that, and support her head. There."

"Valar, she's tiny!"

"And so were you, once." She yawned, suddenly. "Go introduce your daughter to Aragorn and Boromir."

"Our daughter," I interrupted, beaming into her eyes. 

"Yes, our daughter," she repeated, a soft smile curling her lips. "I think I need to sleep."

"Then sleep, beloved. I'll return in a little while." I kissed her forehead and stroked her hand, gently. She smiled at me one last time, then closed her eyes and fell asleep immediately. 

I returned to the room where my king and Boromir waited, carefully cradling the small bundle that was my heir. Boromir was yelling about something but stopped dead when I came in. I couldn't stop smiling as they both came forward to peer at the baby.

"My lord Aragorn, Boromir, may I present my daughter, Ithilawyn?"


End file.
